


Weekend at Tommy's

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [60]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Bickering, Existing Relationship, F/M, Fellatio, Flirting, Fried Chicken, Hiddlestunt, KFC, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, the red nose diaries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 17:52:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8926591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: Scenes from a slow weekend in December. Friday night supper. Saturday morning breakfast. Sunday afternoon tea.





	

####  **Friday Night**

“I’m at KFC, what would you like.”

“Two piece white.”

“Side?”

“Cole slaw.”

“Gross.”

“I guess that means I don’t have to worry about you stealing food off my plate, then.”

“Jerk.”

“Thief.”

“I’m getting you an extra piece of chicken, by the way.”

“Why?”

“You are so skinny, dear.”

“I don’t think I’m _so_ skinny.”

“Well, sure, it’s not Hank Williams skinny, but I’m looking at these lurid pictures of fried chicken thighs on the menu board, and then I get to thinking about your thighs…”

“Your mind boggles my mind sometimes.”

“I guess I must be hungry.”

“And horny, it would seem.”

“So am I horngry?”

“Better than hangry.”

“Was that Hankgry?”

“It wasn’t. And what would Hankgry be anyway?”

“Cheating on your fame-hungry adulterous wife with teenage groupies between blackouts caused by your prodigious drinking?”

“Sounds positively lurid.”

“Just like the chicken thighs.”

“Speaking of lurid…”

“Hey! Fancy seeing you here.”

“Button. Mmmm.”

“God, you’re such an asshole. Sorry, no not you! Can I get two original recipe meals, one dark, one white with an extra breast, cole slaw, and… mashed potatoes. How much? Here you go, and keep the change. Okay, what’s with the sad kitten look?”

“So why am I an arsehole now?”

“Only you would look as handsome as you do under these fluorescent lights while the rest of us look like gelatinous blobs.”

“Well…”

“However do you do it, Mr. Hiddleston?”

“I eat a lot of cole slaw.”

“Figures.”

“That, and there was a bit of wind walking up from the tube.”

“So those rosy cheeks aren’t the blush of true love?”

“Maybe not entirely. But I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

“Yes?”

“There may be other parts of my body blushing or growing with love for you.”

“Oh really?!”

“Sir?”

“Pardon?”

“The food, Baby.”

“Eheheheheh. Cheers, mate. Shall we?”

“I don’t suppose it’s too cold to take this up the hill for a picnic?”

“Perhaps not, but it’s a bit dark, and there are no lights where we’d like to go.”

“Home it is then.”

“And besides, while I do enjoy shagging outdoors…”

“What?!”

“While I do fancy the occasional _al fresco_ fuck, it may be too cold for that.”

“How about the back garden then? Get out the sleeping bags.”

“Button…”

“Oooh! Even in the dark, I can see you blushing. Okay, dude. We’re totally doing it.”

“Carmen, we don’t have to…”

“Oh no, it’s on, Sporty. You. me. This chicken. Sleeping bags.”

“Let’s save the chicken for after.”

“After? Why?”

“While the eternal debate rages on, to determine which came first, the chicken or the egg…”

“The question of us coming before the chicken is no question at all.”

_“Exactement.”_

####  **Saturday Morning**

Sometimes it was too warm when Carmen slept over, but Tom didn’t mind. Though he liked sleeping in a cool bed, he was happy when she was there. He loved the quiet of his house when he was home alone, prized his independence of course. He put a premium on having his own space. But Tom missed her a little. For two were greater than one. And together was better than apart.

The plan from the night before, to make love in sleeping bags set up in the garden, only got so far as Tom and Carmen snogging while they tried to undress each other. When she lay half out of the sack, her sweater bunched up around her neck and a laughing Tom snorting into her bare stomach, Carmen admitted defeat. Momentum brought them upstairs, leaving behind two haphazardly folded sleeping bags in the laundry room, and their supper shoved into the refrigerator.

The chicken would have to wait.

It was morning now. Tom ignored the rumbling of his stomach, still focused on the particulars of Carmen’s mouth. From there his gaze traveled up to the freckled bridge of her nose, along the sweep of her eyelashes, and into her dark eyes, which were now open and peering at him.

“Morning, Button.” Tom draped an arm over her and pulled her in for a kiss. He nuzzled her cheek.

“Hey,” she replied.

“How do you feel about fried chicken for breakfast?” Tom asked.

“A stupendous idea. Though I’m sorry we missed having it for dinner.”

“Well,” said Tom, “we ended up having each other last night, and that was alright.”

“It was more than alright,” Carmen rolled her eyes when he smirked. “But we can’t keep skipping meals to fuck.”

“Can’t we?” Tom arched an eyebrow. “You’re far more delicious than breakfast.”

Carmen rolled onto her back, laughing at Tom who lay on his side and propped his head up with his fist. “Really?”

“Yes.” He leaned in and kissed her lips gently, then sighed.

“What…?” Carmen’s voice was gentle. “You okay?”

“Yes, it’s just…” He smiled. “This is when I missed you most. In the mornings.”

“Oh?” Carmen’s cheeks were pink as she blushed. _Did he know how lethal his charm was just then?_ She looked up and found his eyes sparkling.

_Of course he did._

“Baby, can I ask you something?” When Tom nodded, Carmen smiled back. “Why do you keep using lines?”

Tom scoffed. “That was no line, Carmen. It’s the truth!”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t true but…” She traced the outline of his jaw with her fingertip. “You don’t have to flirt with me. Not all the time.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Tom scooted down, resting his head on the pillow next to hers. “I must.”

“But…”

“I cannot help it. Not when it comes to you.”

“But I don’t want you to feel like you have to…” Carmen murmured.

“I know,” Tom sighed.

“So you missed me most in the mornings. Why then?”

Tom kissed her. “I love it when you’re quiet.”

“You know, Tom, if you’re trying to tell me I talk too much,” Carmen drawled, “you can take a more direct approach.”

He chuckled. “Please, Carmen. I’m serious.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

Tom kissed her temple. “It’s intimacy. I missed the closeness. I didn’t see many close friends, not until Thor began shooting, so it could get lonely.”

“Poor baby. Sweet Tom.” Carmen kissed his cheek. “Did you think of me often this summer?”

He kissed her back. “Every day.”

“Whenever did you find the time?” She teased. “What with all the jet-setting, romantic dinner dates.” She squinted at him. “Those walks.”

“Let’s just say the company I kept was not the most engaging.”

“What?!” Carmen feigned shock. “Pool Noodle didn’t engage your intellect with scintillating conversation and scathing wit?”

“Not quite.” Tom bit his lip.

“That must have tried your patience,” said Carmen.

“It did.”

“But you’re such a gentleman, I’m sure you never took that frustration out on her.”

“No,” muttered Tom. Turning his body into hers, his right hand disappeared under the covers, seeking the soft warmth of her sex. He brushed his thumb along the mound, chuckling when Carmen shivered with anticipation.

“You must have been so tense, love.” She turned her head to receive the kiss he pressed to her lips. She hugged him, squealing when he pulled her on top of him.

Tom ran his hands through her hair, letting it slip through his fingers as it fell around her face. “I was.”

“And how did you relieve that tension?” Carmen whispered.

Tom lifted his head slightly to kiss her again. “I remembered the other thing I liked to do in the mornings. When it’s just me…”

“Just me…” echoed Carmen, offering her neck to Tom to suckle.

“Just you,” breathed Tom before he nipped at her throat. “And these idle hands of mine.”

Tom’s hands held her hips in place, the fingers digging in whenever a particular kiss, nibble, or suckle applied by her to his flesh was especially good. Before he could respond in kind, seek out the warmth of her sex again, Carmen caught his hands and, drawing his arms up, placed them upon the headboard. Brushing his lips with hers, she then moved down his body, pausing every so often to kiss a particular cluster of freckles ( _“Hello, boys”_ ).

Hearing but refusing the call of his impatient whines, Carmen licked slow circles around each nipple, her hands running up and down his muscular flanks. When Tom arched his back, she growled before nipping at one hardened bud with her teeth.

“Jesus, Button…” Tom moaned when he felt her breath on his inner thighs. He looked down in time to see her push his legs apart slightly. She reached for his cock, which was hard and standing, not lying flat on his stomach but away from it, and traced the veins with her fingertips before enclosing him in her grasp.

Carmen didn’t meet his gaze. There was no saucy wink as she kissed the head, then flicked her tongue against the underside. Tom moaned his satisfaction, but she made no verbal reply. Instead, she swirled her tongue around the tip, once and then again while she stroked him.

He didn’t hear much beyond his own moans, but Tom felt everything. The softness of her lips, then the heat of her mouth as she drew him in further. She hummed to herself, a low tuneless sound, even when she released him momentarily from her lips and instead clasped her hands around his cock and worked him.

Tom caught her eye, a brief look as he reached down to touch her face. Carmen kissed the palm of his open hand, closed her eyes, then began to suck on the head of his cock. He kept his hand there, clutching at the dark strands of her hair, grip tightening as she swallowed more of his turgid flesh.

Tom felt helpless, watching her head bob up and down. Her humming turned into moaning, and the thrum of her lips on his cock was the most exquisite torture. He wanted to laugh when she began to massage his balls with the hand that wasn’t massaging his shaft, that’s how good he felt.

Tom tensed up, clenching his buttocks in anticipation of release when she sucked harder, moved her head faster. When he tugged on her hair, an almost involuntary response to the increasing speed and pressure of her lips, Carmen shivered. She reached for him, feeling for his hand until he caught it.

“Oh god…” Tom cried out. “Please, I…” He felt dizzy out of breath, out of control. And then he found her hand. An anchor, to center him as he fell apart and came hard. Everything had been hot and tense, so the relief that washed over him, the little shocks of his orgasm fading away, was cool. There was a thin film of perspiration all over Tom’s body, which was exposed to the cool morning air. He groaned in relief when Carmen, after reluctantly releasing him, crawled up and brought the duvet with her to cover them.

Tom felt her chest move against him as she caught her breath. “Button?” He peeked down at her, following his gaze with his fingers, which he used to comb her hair.

“Mmm?” She lifted her head and squinted at him. “Was that okay?” She giggled when he hugged her tightly.

“Thank you, love.” Tom kissed the top of her head. “When might I return the favor?”

“Dunno.” She ground against him, smiling when he laughed. “Now? Later?”

“Is there anything I can do to help you, erm, come to a decision?”

“Yeah,” whispered Carmen. “Can you go get the chicken? I can’t make any important decisions on an empty stomach.”

####  **Sunday Afternoon**

When Tom returned from the cafe, having dashed back to retrieve the box of tea he had purchased to take home, he found Carmen around the corner, standing perfectly still. She was scowling at something across the street. Not saying anything, she glared through the steam that wafted up from her paper takeaway cup of tea. Tom winced when he recognized the object of her scorn.

“Button…” Tom ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just somebody’s idea of a joke.”

“But she’s the joke, right?” Eyes narrowed, she peered up at Tom. Her bottom lip was pushed out in a pout. “Not you.”

Tom shrugged. “I don’t know about that.”

Carmen looked around, noting with approval that, despite the mild weather, they were alone. “Would you cover me?”

“Cover you? Hey, what are you doing?!” Before Tom knew it, Carmen dashed across the street to the green metal box, upon which was a stylized comic rendering of…

“Voldemort!” Carmen tilted her head, then set her tea down on top of the box. She withdrew a black Sharpie marker from her coat pocket with a flourish.

Tom appeared at her side. “What happened to The Human Pool Noodle?”

“Voldemort is faster. Better for talking in public.” Carmen crouched down and considered the poster. “If, for example, we go to brunch and I spend thirty minutes ranting about how much I hate Voldemort, how Voldemort’s followers can be so unkind to those of us who are not slavish admirers, and the more people who recognize her for what she is…”

“Then people will actually think you’re talking about the villain from Harry Potter…” said Tom.

“And not about…” Carmen . “Well, you know.”

“Yes, I do know. But Carmen…” Tom crouched down to join her.

“What?” She turned to look at him. “You think I should leave it?”

He nodded. “Don’t pay it any mind. It’s not important.”

“I know that!” Carmen frowned, picked up her cup and took another gulp of tea.

“Then why do what I think you’re going to do with that Sharpie?” Tom raised his eyebrows, indicating the marker in her hand. “Why do anything at all?”

Carmen scoffed. “I’m super petty, remember?”

Tom sighed, then held his hand out. “Give it here.”

“Really?” Carmen’s eyes brightened as she looked at him, and then at the offending poster. “You’re going to deface it?”

“No!” Tom reached for the marker, but she held it out of reach. “I’m disarming you, madame.”

“I’d like to see you try that, sir!” She shrieked with laughter when Tom grabbed her, barely managing to turn in his tight embrace in an effort to keep the implement away. When she felt him nip at the back of her neck, she squeaked. “No cheating!”

“I’m the unarmed party here!” Tom began to tickle her, taking advantage of her unbuttoned peacoat to slip his hands under the hem of her sweater.

“Cold hands, baby!” Carmen doubled over, but the pen remained safe in her fist.

While the tea, plastic lid and paper cup and all, flew out and hit the poster square in the middle. The stain was faint, as it was green tea, but it was there. Looking at it, Carmen couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of satisfaction. This was no victory, not even closure, but it was something.

Tom straightened up, releasing Carmen as she inspected the damage. He took her hand, kissed it, then shook his head.

She tried to look sorry. “It was an accident.”

“It’s not that. Please, don’t be sorry.” He put an arm around her. “It’s a shame, you know.”

“What’s a shame?” Carmen gave the poster one last glance as Tom began to walk them away from it, in the direction of home.

“You should have gotten coffee.” Tom looked thoughtful. “That would have made a much larger improvement.”


End file.
